Shortly after Ca’armine and Alexis finish discussing the words of Ness Brightleaf, or at least the river of souls and the soul of Zrithak that refused to sleep, Rask approaches Ca’armine, head bowed penitently.
“Ca’armine, I did not wish to respond and further distance us from Alexis’ inquiry, but I do want to respond to your questions.”
“I am no longer curious about Zrithak. Yes, his malice was evident from the moment we laid eyes on him. I suspected something was… unique about the wretch, and I hope the Blade of the Betrayers would capture his soul. I see how misguided and dangerous that was now.”
Rask pauses to see if Ca’armine has any thoughts or questions. He clearly has second point to make though and does not wait long.
“I was also called the Black Blade Ca’armine. Malice isn’t strange or scary to me like it should be I guess… Ursil gave me the sword when he was still King Adelfrid’s First General. He called it the Blade of the Betrayers…”
Rask clearly has mixed and troubling emotions around Ursil and Rasks own journey away from King Adelfrid’s forces as he takes a breath.
“I trust you Ca’armine, I cannot begin to express to you how grateful I am for you ridding me of Zrithak. What I thought would be a strange interrogation turned into a horrible… I wasn’t fully in control of myself Ca’armine, it was the worst thing I’ve ever experienced.”
Rask pauses and takes a deep breath.
“The Blade of the Betrayers was made by elves to reap souls. It holds many souls, all reduced to a black screaming rage. I never heard them before I took Zrithak’s soul with the sword. Not in anyway I can point to at least. To be honest, I also hoped to learn more about the sword from… well yeah… Now, without the sword, I don’t feel as full of rage. I am not the Black Blade of Aegir anymore, and I don’t want to be that ever again.”
Rask looks down briefly.
“But Ca’arm… I was angry and bitter before I was given the Blade. And I’m still angry. I’m still bitter. I still want to make everyone who was part of Thater being destroyed pay…”
Rask looks Ca’armine in the eyes, sad but resigned.
“And I am still a killer. The Blade was given to me as an award after my hundredth confirmed kill. I have no idea how many men I’ve killed since…. The Blade strengthened my rage as much as it strengthened my sword arm, but it did not… possess me the same way Zrithak did.”
“It is dangerous, and needs to be dealt with. I trust to you to decide how best it should be dealt with, but I want to you to understand that without Zrithak, it did not have a will of it’s own that I ever felt.”
Rask takes a deep apprehensive breath, glances down for a moment and back to the Priest.
A River Of Lost Souls Ahead
Zrithrak has been driven from Rask. Alexis has exclaimed that Hood had come to claim the spirit while holding a fly in his hands. Since those moments the group has gathered their things and barely started toward Ghanil again. Packs shifted, gear checked, the wagon creaking along. Alexis addresses the group.
“I keep circling back to that soothsayer—Ness Brightleaf.” He waves absently, not toward anywhere in particular, just back into memory.
“Something like: ‘Ahead of me, a river of lost souls. Some spirits refuse to sleep. The voices of the dead yearn for rest. Their whispers bring dark tidings.’” He shrugs, not claiming perfect recall. “Or close enough.”
The copper coin keeps running over his knuckles as his gaze sweeps the line of travelers, pausing a fraction longer on Ca’armine. “Zrithrak fits—soul that wouldn’t sleep. But did he ever want rest? Or was he holding on?”
He gives the priest space, then presses on.
“I still think of that dwarven spirit in Dura-Intun. The one who spoke of Kobos. He was restless. Wanted Hood’s gate, wanted peace. And that city of the dead? That’s different. They’re bound by the Endless Hunger. Won’t let them rest. Zrithrak wasn’t bound like that.”
The coin flashes once, drops into his palm. “So what kept him?”
A Little Here, A Little There
Eight days out from Ghanil, four since driving Zrithrak from Rask, the group settled in around the fire. Alexis sat half-lit at the edge, the brim of his hat dropping shadow across his eyes. A copper coin rolled steady over his knuckles, flashing, disappearing, flashing again. The red jasper at his chest shifted when he breathed, catching firelight for a blink before sliding back into dark.
He speaks without raising his voice. Mostly to Ethelred, but clearly others need to hear this as well.
“I’ve been thinking—we need to start setting caches. Supply stashes, marked so we can track them later. Something queer in each one, something that doesn’t belong—a child’s top, maybe. Close enough, we’ll find it again.”
The coin paused, balanced between thumb and finger.
“Gus will know where we left them. But if he’s not there, we’re not left blind.”
He leaned forward, letting the fire catch half his face, the rest still in shadow.
“After Ghanil, who knows? Greyfax land. Grasslands again. North of Sutheron. Every road takes something from us. Better to have reserves waiting.”
He turned the coin once more, then let it vanish into his palm.
“What do you think, friend?”
The fire cracked. The shadows shifted with it.
Who Knows About Trolls
The campfire cracked and hissed, throwing its smoke into the night air. The Crimson Calling alone around it.
Alexis sat near the flames, hat brim low, a copper coin working its way over his knuckles. Across from him, Ca’armine’s red cloak caught the firelight, while Rask sat rigid, a soldier even when still.
Ethelred’s words about troll-powder still hung in the air, fragments of theory and half-formed warnings. Alexis let them fade, then leaned forward just enough to set his shadow across the fire. His voice carried evenly, with the kind of weight that didn’t need raising.
“You’ve heard what we’ve seen,” he said. “Trolls. Powder. What it does. That’s the measure of it so far.” The coin paused between his fingers, then rolled again, catching a lick of firelight before vanishing back into shadow.
He studied the two newest men in the group, letting the silence stretch a breath longer than comfort. “What about you? Raiden’s people don’t waste time. Do they know more about this enemy?”
The fire popped. The coin clicked once against his ring before disappearing back into motion. Alexis didn’t move otherwise, just watched them across the flames, steady and expectant.
Another Sally Update
The grasslands spread wide, sea-wind threading faint salt through the air. E’armos is still a ways away. Alexis has finished talking to Ca’armine and walks ahead of the wagon next to Gustav, hat brim angled against the sun. His whip hangs coiled at his side. A copper coin rolls steadily over his knuckles, an old rhythm as familiar as walking. The red jasper pendant shifts at his chest, hidden more than shown.
While looking straight ahead, he speaks—voice carrying just enough.
“Way up north, before the troll attack, you told us about Sally. How she only knew ‘go’ and ‘come.’ You said you’d train her to see more. Roads, rivers, maybe even her own trail back.”
The coin moves finger to finger, smooth and sure.
“I’ve been asking for updates as we’ve gone, and it’s that time again, friend.”
A sidelong glance at Gustav, a hint of dry amusement in his eyes.
“How’s her training coming?”
With Horn And Canyon Can a Sending Make?
It’s the day after their second night watching Tarkus Vell’s warehouse. The camp sits on the ragged edge of Ghanil, tents pitched close but without order. To the west, the Westlands stretch out under a clear sky.
Ethelred keeps his watch, cloth in hand, working over the wooden spyglass. The fittings look sturdier than when they first bought it, the grain smoother, edges tighter, as though time and use had only sharpened it.
Alexis stirs, props himself up, voice low.
“Evening, Red.”
…
“Dreams again,” Alexis says. “Running corridors that turned back on themselves. Always ending where I began. A woman’s pleading voice all the while.”
…
“Red, I’ve been excited for you to finish the scrolls and take your new craft to the next level…” his voice falters, just for a breath, as if there’s more he wants to say — something personal. He pushes on. “…but I need you in the here-and-now too. So much I want to say to so many people.”
He starts counting on his fingers.
“About Zrithrak. The howling winds. The undead on the edge of Ghanil. The Spider of Ilceros. And more.”
He ticks them off the way Ethelred does his inventory: precise.
“We need a way to get word out. A way to send messages over distances. I don’t know when we’ll see another proper town.”
A breath. Then another matter.
“And there’s Verisimus, always watching through his pool. Gustav managed to blunt it for a while, but…” Alexis shrugs “We need cover from Verisimus. Something that moves with us.”
Alexis quietly pushes out of his bedroll. The red jasper at his neck catches the daylight, burning faintly.
The Need For Some Time to Appraise
It’s the daytime after the group has first started scouting Tarkus Vell’s warehouse. Ethelred is on watch.
Alexis stirs, pushes himself upright, and glances around the camp. The others are still wrapped in sleep, breath rising steady from their blankets. The quiet hum of the nomad quarter beyond, the wide grasslands holding steady at the city’s edge. He spots Ethelred on watch and lowers his voice.
“Evening Red” Alexis whispers.
…
“Mostly good,” he says after a moment, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Though I woke from another of those dreams—like the visions back in the Westlands. This time I was behind the eyes of a great white wolf. It dug at the earth, but the ground gave back bodies instead of dirt. And still it tore on, trying to reach something burning below.” His hand closes around the red jasper at his throat. “We can’t let him succeed. He’ll ruin everything if we do.” Alexis says it plain, as though stating the weather.
Alexis takes a moment and shifts gears.
“I’ve been thinking that after we leave here we need to spend some time discerning what some of our tools do. I still lament giving up those wooden rings, but we weren’t spending the time we needed to figure them out and Mavon needs the money. But while traveling away from here, or wherever we are next that’s quiet, please make sure I make time to uncover the mysteries.”
Alexis eases back down onto his bedroll, folding his hands behind his head. His gaze lingers on the pale sky, a faint smile touching his lips as the sounds of the nomad quarter drift across their camp.
Rask Rebuilds
In the first few days after the Ritual on the Road Rask is subdued. He prays with Ca’armine and Gus whenever he can. He invites Ethelred to join them if Ethelred doesn’t seem busy. Helps them around camp and on the road, and spends a lot of time tending to the horses. He touches the wooden Shield of Raiden brooch Ethelred made him often.
In the morning on the first day after Rask very tentatively does a long set of calisthenics, pushing himself up off the ground, jumping up and down, marching in place and more. He exercises vigorously for nearly a hour, but he does not practice any fighting moves at all.
The next morning he does the same, more confidently.
On the third morning he adds a few minutes of slow movements that seem somewhat like unarmed fighting moves, but at the slowest possible pace in the most idealized form. He prays to Raiden for guidance and protection while holding the small wooden shield. The next day his routine changes, he prays briefly before starting m, a short intense burst of calisthenics is followed by a long, repeated cycle of the same slow, very controlled movements. After about and hour he prays to Raiden briefly in thanks, and goes about the rest of his day.
The remainder of each day continues very much the same: An occasional conversation, lots of praying, tending to the horses, and helping Gus or Ca’armine any time they will accept it.
The next morning, the cycle of unarmed movements progressively gets faster until it is blinding fast, and then slow again until it ends at the slowest possible pace. Throughout Rask is calm and focused, the movements carefully controlled and precise.
That day, Rask asks Ca’armine for permission to start practicing with a baton, and Ca’armine assents.
His routine shifts again: short burst of calisthenics, unarmed forms at a moderate pace and then at his fastest, fully controlled pace. Only then, starting at the slowest possible pace, does his begin the fighting forms with the stick. Two days later he is practicing at full speed with the stick as well. At the end of each session he sits, contemplative, offers a prayer to Raiden, and then goes about his day.
It takes a couple days of full speed stick practice before Rask asks Ca’armine for a sword. Rask does so with humility and some sense of resignation and sadness.
The cycle starts again, Rask adds a prayer to Raiden at the beginning, then the calisthenics and unarmed forms at their slowest pace as well as the sword forms. Rask takes a little longer with the steel sword, and spends two days of excruciating slow forms. A skilled swordsman would notice that the forms are almost exclusively focused on using the flat of the blade, the pommel or creating an opening for a kick, leg sweep, or other unarmed strike, and not on thrusting or slicing attacks. Rask slowly works his way up to speed with the steel sword. Rask is precise, focused and in complete control throughout the exercises. At the end of each session, he prays to Raiden before starting the rest of his day.
The morning before entering Gahnil, and after praying together, Rask approaches Ca’armine with the same sad, humble resignation and asks to partice with and carry the Raidensblud Blade. Before starting practice he prays to Raiden. His calisthenics and unarmed forms are just under full speed, control and precision are his complete focus. He is cautious at first with the Blud Blade, using the slowest possible forms again, but builds to full speed, still completely in control and with a precision that is both comforting and frightening to those who watch.
He concludes the session with a moment of contemplation and then a prayer to Raiden. He is ready to break camp and make the final ride into Gahnil, to find Tarkus Vell and return to the hunt for Bandesingh.
Raiden’s Grove Again?
The group is about 9 days out from Ghanil and three days since driving Zrithrak out of Rask. Ethelred is in the back of the wagon studying, Rask is riding his horse, and Gustav and Alexis are leading the cart horses.
“About what we talked on yesterday,” Alexis says. “Can you make another grove, wherever we stop next? Could Ca’armine help?”
Alexis keeps walking with Gustav, waiting for his friend to answer in his own time.
The Forest Fortress From the Grasslands
The group is about 10 days out from Ghanil and two days since driving Zrithrak out of Rask. Ethelred is in the back of the wagon studying, Rask is riding his horse, and Gustav and Alexis are leading the cart horses.
“Have you heard anything from the grove up north?” Alexis asks
“It’s been months since we were up there and you were pretty worried about it dying of the flame.”
Alexis keeps walking with Gustav, waiting for his friend to answer in his own time.